Phillippa York

I heroically cycle in to work this morning and then crawl up the stairs to my office.

L seems to have coped with her run, at least she didn’t seem to be grimacing as much this morning but that could have been down to the large bottle of Leffe Brune we shared last night.

She now has the paperwork for her crime (red light jumping) and questions whether this will effect our insurance premium. I have looked into this and putting her on the car insurance actually reduces the premium by about £30. Work that one out... Now with her points, it makes no difference.Work that one out...

Is today Friday? I think it is, I’m all confused with all my rescheduling this week. L heads off to the gym to limber up, just in case it is.

There’s no park for MD tonight as my fellow athlete has a very stiff left thigh which I shall get the ice pack on later.

Cyclist Robert Millar finally confesses to being a woman, about time. He ‘disappeared’ many years ago and would only give interviews by email. Although several newspapers have stalked him and produced photos of his new self. Now he’s gone public and Phillippa York will be appearing on ITV4 covering the Tour de France. I'll look forward to that. 

(Friday 7^th July)

Maths Lesson

Second day.

Four more stalls arrive this morning and I have trouble fitting them all in because all the existing ones have spread themselves out to an excessive amount. A least the ice cream man seems happy today, as he sits counting his money. I tell him that there have been complaints that he hasn’t been giving our club members the agreed 50% discount.

I look around his van and can see now evidence of any prices on display at all. He explains that this is because he charges more at shows that his street price but he assures me that he’s been honouring the half price offer, charging £1 for a £1.50 cone. Err ok... I guess maths isn’t his strong point. I give him a quick lesson.

Today first aid duty brings a trapped finger and no ice packs to treat it.

The show itself is going well though. Everyone seems to like the new trophies and rosettes. Today even I get a rosette as MD comes 10^th. That was after two rather frustrating runs but at least we got the third one sort of right. Doggo is clear too, of course.

Then at around 7.30 in the evening the heavens open and rain arrives. Well it’s more of a monsoon actually and it last for a full eight hours.

We head off site in the car and drive to Burton. Where after a few failed attempts to find a pub serving food we opt for the liquid option whilst we formulate another plan. The curry house we can see from the pub looks the best bet.

It is and the food is very nice too. Good call.

We head back via a look at the 24 hour Thunder Run, which is taking place across the road from our show. I’ve always wanted to do this but I’m not jealous tonight as the runners valiantly soldier on in the torrential rain.

It’s nice, dry and cosy in our tent though. In fact it’s all very seductive with the elements doing their worst outside.

(Saturday 27^th July)

Uncharted Territory

A dog show today, near Worcester.

Doggo opens the day with a clear in his one and only run before MD puts in not one but two clears before lunch. He picks up rosettes for 12^th and 16^th. Not quick enough but at least we’re getting clears.

With a couple of rosettes in the bag 'we' decide to go for it a bit more in the afternoon. We promptly get eliminated when he misses out a weave pole, though I blame the judge because the poles looked far from straight to me.

The next run is better and we go into 3^rd place. Eventually we get pushed down to 4^th which is a shame because the trophies that went to the first three looked rather nice. Three clears in one day though is uncharted territory.

Back home L is sitting pretty with a cup of tea and an ice pack, feeling +ve for Sheffield after running 15k. A gold star for her. I never doubted her.

In lieu of L’s birthday on Wednesday we head into town for a meal out at the fishy place known as Loch Fyne. Sadly it's a chain but we don’t get many fish restaurants here as we’re a bit far from the coast. I fainted outside last time, so I consider going in disguise tonight but instead we decide to fortify ourselves with a few beers in the Hand & Heart first. 

We thought it would be quieter and more romantic going to Loch Fyne on a Sunday or possibly dead, which it was when we did the Marrakesh restaurant on a Sunday, but nope, it’s packed and possibly understaffed. I suspect this when our waitress stands in front of us out of breath and dripping sweat on to the floor.

I’m not a great fan of fish when it turns out to fiddly e.g. shell and bones, which is the case here. Although L claims her Lobster is very slimming once de-shelled e.g. small. Everything is also rather plain and I do love a good sauce. Perhaps a place for fish purists only.

We pop for a night cap at the Peacock but are denied a second when they stop serving at 10pm despite it being a bank holiday and the pub being really busy.

(Sunday 5^th May)

The Plan Goes Awry

It’s difficult to judge the weather this week. A lot of rain and wind is forecast. I deduce that today might not be a good bike day, so decide to run from work.

That plan kind of goes awry when about three miles into my run my calf goes really tight. When it does that it either loosens up again as I run or tears... I proceed with caution, slowly and neither happens. It just gets tighter.

Then just as I’m considering aborting and getting a bus, the bus goes past me. It's twenty minutes to the next one, so I might as well walk/hobble for a bit to see how it goes. It doesn’t. Twenty minutes of hobbling later I get the next bus, which then crawls in traffic all the way into Nottingham. It’s one of those days.

Back home, I have an ice pack on it when L walks in. She’s shocked, clearly thinking it must be seriously broken if I’m taking such remedial action. Honestly, you try and be sensible (for once), like your partner has encouraged you to be and what do you get? Your partner’s finger hovering over the ‘9’ key on the phone about to press it three times.

This has all happened because it’s the Alsager 5 mile race this Sunday and I thought it was about time we did a race, now the ice has all gone. I only entered us yesterday and then the very next day... bang.

(Tuesday 29^th January)

Woe Is Me

I make it into work by car without my leg seizing and leaving me stranded on the A52. Then I book a physio appointment for 4pm, so that I can get the bad news confirmed.

So no running for three weeks, no racing for at least four. When I asked whether there was any chance of a half marathon after four weeks the physio looked at her feet and shook her head. Which may have been a ‘no’.

When I mentioned skiing she went sort of pale but conceded it could be possible with care, the right amount of alcohol and perhaps a little stupidity. So at least that was promising.

She recommended lots of gym work and swimming but I reckon L must have rang ahead to tell her to say that. It’s the sort of thing L would say.

The results for Sunday’s race are up. There were 2736 finishes in the half and one man limping across the line, as well as 460 in the 10k. So not a bad turnout considering the conditions.

I skip dog class, so that ruins MD’s night, as I sit with a ice pack on my leg instead, enviously watching Ski Sunday. Woe is me.

(Monday 5th March)